


Hallelujah

by hyperion



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Season/Series 04, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-17
Updated: 2010-06-17
Packaged: 2017-11-15 14:44:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/528414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyperion/pseuds/hyperion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel's assignment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hallelujah

God Himself had never given Castiel his orders. The closest Castiel had ever gotten to his Father in Heaven was near the trembling foundations where the seraphim were singing, “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts. All the earth is filled with His Glory. Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is to come.” Angels knew that their voices and appearances could overwhelm humans to the point of destruction, but newborn angels were warned that the same would happen to lower angels foolish enough to look upon the burning seraphim or venture to closely to the Throne while they were singing. Not that any angel but those special, powerful few had stepped over the threshold. But Castiel liked to sit quietly outside, where the pavement stones vibrated softly and their voices were a sweet harmony, endless in their singing. He wondered if they or God would notice if he sang along.

He saw Raphael cross the threshold once. The singing died down to a low murmur, and Castiel left when it seemed that Raphael might stay forever in the presence of God. Castiel understood the inclination. But he did have orders, minor errands in Heaven and a few on Earth that did not require a vessel. The Dominions usually relayed the orders, having been relayed to them by the Thrones to whom God revealed some of his plans. It was an unusual affair when Mediat, a young Throne, approached Castiel with orders directly from God. Angels were being sent into Hell to bring Dean Winchester back to Earth, and Castiel would be the one to pull him out.

Castiel had known that Mediat was a trouble-maker, weaving the unexpected out of holy madness. However, he could not have known that Mediat’s madness would bring him _Dean_. The righteous man in Hell who broke the first seal also had eyes that were Castiel’s favorite shade of green. He was a mouthy, fragile human who had no idea of his own vulnerability and insolence until Castiel told him, but he continued to throw himself into the maw of the beast with a sneer like he forgot what Castiel said three seconds after he said it. He probably did. The flaws that Uriel detested in humans were like crazing in a fine glaze for Castiel, more valuable because they were there, and having met Dean, Castiel understood why his Father loved humans so much.

Mediat appeared again when Castiel and Uriel went to receive revelation, bringing another order. “Castiel,” he said, completely ignoring Uriel’s grimacing presence, “Samhain must not be allowed to rise. However, our Father has a test of sorts. You must follow Dean Winchester’s orders.”

Castiel, who had been utterly faithful, whose only possible act of rebellion was wishing to sing a song not written for his voice, was terrified. “Is He testing my loyalty?”

Glassy-eyed, Mediat shrugged. “It may be a test for Dean Winchester. He bears a great burden. But since you are responsible for him, you bear the burden too.” Then Mediat was gone, back to his garrison.

Uriel saw the dumbstruck look on Castiel’s face and took pity. “Don’t worry, Castiel. You know Mediat is mad. He’s been driven crazy from all the years he’s spent contemplating our Father’s divine justice.” It was a hazard of being a Throne, who upheld God’s justice while always seeking to understand it. “You know, Abrinael told me that Mediat is crazier than the rest of them. He probably misunderstood God’s orders.”

But Castiel would not allow another angel to see his faith as anything but absolute. “Father would not have sent Mediat if he would not be able to pass on the order properly.”

Any hope that he did not look as miserable as he felt was extinguished when Uriel put an arm around his shoulder and began to lead him away. “Let’s go rain down fire and brimstone. That’ll make you feel better.”

Uriel was grumpier after he missed his opportunity to smite a whole town. Then when it turned out that he was behind the murders of their brothers and sisters, Castiel found himself drawn even more to Dean. Part of it was curiosity about humans and part of it was the curiosity he still had about his Samhain orders. Castiel was not under the impression that he needed to follow all of Dean’s orders after Samhain, but he thought that Dean was correct about much of what they were doing. Apparently, the other angels thought differently. Being dragged back to Heaven for an adjustment scared Castiel back into line, though he did not stay there for long. Because curiosity aside, Castiel was fond of Dean, finding himself caring more for him with each insolent word. Also, Dean was his responsibility, and God wanted Dean alive, so Castiel braced himself for the mighty smiting Raphael delivered.

He did not exist for some time, but then he was rocked back to the earthly plane, and that was the closest to being dizzy as Castiel had ever come. He thought that God was responsible for his resurrection, and when he saw that Dean was still alive and disrespecting angels, he was certain.

He loved Dean then, when they were alone for a little while, when Dean was adamant that Castiel should not die a virgin, and when Raphael shook his foundations. If Raphael was right, if God had died or had abandoned them all, then who had given orders to Mediat to deliver to Castiel? Castiel was meant to love Dean, he was sure, but what if that was only because Mediat was so far gone that he could not recognize who was his Father and who was his brother or sister?

Castiel took a risk in summoning Mediat. He had had a plan to trap Raphael, but doing that to Mediat seemed wrong. Plus, it was essentially useless if other angels were watching for Castiel to contact anyone whom he might have thought friendly. After performing the summons, Mediat quickly appeared alone.

“You rang?”

Castiel was on the defensive, but he relaxed a little when Mediat did not appear to want to capture or kill him. He had no illusions that Mediat would be unable to do either, but it seemed that Mediat had no intention to. “Who gave you the orders you gave me?” _Who gave you the orders that made me kill my brothers for the sake of Dean Winchester?_

“Our Father,” Mediat said simply.

“And you’re certain?”

“If I didn’t know what God told me to tell you, I’d call down Zachariah right now to smite you. He really thinks you deserve more than what Raphael gave you, and the rest of them, they think you’ve rebelled, so they’re on board with it too.”

“And you?”

Mediat stared into the sun, unblinking. “I know the orders you were given. I gave them to you. God gave them to me.”

“How could our Father give you orders for me just a few months ago when Raphael says He’s gone? I'm under the impression that He's been gone a while. When did this happen?”

Mediat rubbed his eyes like he was just waking up. “I don’t know when it happened. Long enough ago for the archangels to grow restless. The Seraphim don’t sing as brightly now,” he said, giving Castiel a sideways glance. “The Cherubim are social climbing. The Thrones still contemplate justice, but without inspiration. I don’t know what’s happening with the lower angels. I’ve only been away from my post to talk to you.”

“If God has been gone that long, then who gave you orders?”

“He did. I told you He did.”

Castiel was growing agitated with the disconnect between Mediat’s answers. “How could God give you orders if He was gone?”

“He gave me the orders years ago. When I was much younger, He told me what I must do. And so I have done it, just as He said.”

“Any chance you’re confused after so much time?”

“When God speaks to you, Castiel, you aren’t likely to forget.”

Mediat disappeared then, and Castiel was just slightly reassured that he had been following God’s commands. He was depressed at the thought that his Father had died, but Castiel knew that it had to have been God who brought them all back. So he continued his hunt, continued doing disreputable things, at least disreputable in the eyes of the other angels. He could not be sure that he was doing what his Father wanted, but he thought that it was on a not-as-wrong track as his brothers and sisters.

When Joshua pronounced that God was done, that was when Castiel lost faith. That was when Dean loved him back. Castiel supposed that all children had to grow up and leave their parents’ houses, ultimately finding another kind of love under a different roof. Maybe this was his Father’s way of sending him on to his adult life.

That was what Castiel was thinking about when he was confronted with the face of his Father, after Lucifer had destroyed him. He was this strange form in the ether, not overwhelmed by God’s presence simply because God wanted it that way, but not an angel or any other being he recognized. He just existed in God’s presence, somewhere.

And though his Father did not say anything directly to him, Castiel felt that He still wanted an answer. He could hear a list of his crimes rattling in his head: loyalty to Dean rather than his brothers and sisters, using his knowledge and power against his family, killing his brothers, choosing this life, removing the gifts that God had given him by using that Enochian sigil on his chest, and giving up everything for a love that might not deserve it most days.

Castiel imagined his crimes, and he knew he was supposed to answer for them, but the more they circled in his mind, the less they felt like sins. “Hallelujah,” Castiel sang. _Praise God_ and gratitude that it happened, that he had experienced it all, that he had done everything he had. “Hallelujah,” for being granted two years on earth to become what he was, to find his voice. “Hallelujah,” for defiance. “Hallelujah,” for Dean. His Father was apparently pleased with that answer.


End file.
